


It feels like a dream

by Bubblesyoh



Series: More than enough [2]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bathing/Washing, Cuddles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubblesyoh/pseuds/Bubblesyoh
Summary: Alex strokes from Michael's arm, to his shoulder, resting a hand on his cheek, trying to press Michael closer against his chest.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: More than enough [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817467
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65





	It feels like a dream

Michael was practically asleep at the table, his face resting in his hand that was propped up by his elbow. He looks at Alex as if afraid that he is an illusion, a figment of his imagination, scared that if he looks away, Alex will evaporate into the air. Buffy lets out a tiny bark, trying to capture Michael's attention once more. She had been dancing around his legs for the last twenty minutes, her excitement had made Michael smile, and in turn, Alex had smiled too.

When Alex puts a plate full of sandwiches in front of him, Michael glances at him as he tentatively picks up the bread and takes a bite. He eats like he hasn't seen a meal since the last time they have been together. Alex tries not to dwell on how close to the truth that might be, how skinny, dirty and bruised Michael is, how tired he looks.

He lets out a small pitiful sound that can barely be heard and Michael suddenly is in his arms. He tastes like Michael; he smells like Michael; _he feels like the Michael_ Alex remembers and not like _four months dead_. Alex wraps his arms around him as tightly as he can, focusing on the strong heart beating against his own; Michael finally is where he belongs, and alive.

With a deep breath, Alex pulls away from the hug and guides Michael's to the bathroom and Michael just stands there, swaying slightly, until Alex takes matters into his own hands. Gently Alex tugs the filthy, damp, muddy clothes from Michael's body. The ruined blood-stained hoodie, the soaked jeans, everything is peeled away carefully. He helps Michael slowly easing him into the edge of the bathtub to make it easier for him. 

  
  
Alex kneels on the floor, watching Michael hissing as the water stings cuts and scrapes that have yet to heal. Alex grabs body wash and the sponge and washes away the grime, he scrubs until the skin glows a soft, healthy pink. He washes Michael with slow, gentle, intimate caresses meant to comfort and reassure.

Then he moves on, wetting Michael's hair so he can wash it. He runs shampoo through the filthy locks, tugging at the strands to clean them. Michael bows his head, sighing softly as Alex works the conditioner into his hair. "It feels nice," he murmurs. Alex smiles faintly as he slows his movements, gently massaging Michael's scalp, before guiding him to tilt into the water and rinse.

He cleans and dries Michael efficiently and quickly, wanting nothing more than to curl in bed together. Then he uses the towel on Michael's hair, drawing a huff of protest when he towels Michael's hair, leaving the strands puffed up in unruly curls.

"It's a good look," Alex says, and Michael gives him a small smile, one that slowly disappears before he brings up a shaky finger to poke Alex in the cheek. To make sure that this is _really_ happening, that they _really_ are together once more.

He pulls Michael as close as he possibly can, flattens his hands against the cool skin of his bare back, down his spine and back up again, over the hair that is so much longer than he ever remembers it being. He shoves his face into Michael's neck, a way to reassure Michael and himself, but also to hide his burning eyes.

He ushers Michael to bed then, desperate and needy to feel him in his arms, to finally kiss away every new scar, to ask the stories behind every new mark, to map out every inch of Michael's skins with his lips, kissing away the hurt and blemishes. Michael gives a soft hum of assent, letting himself being completely at his mercy.

Alex absently reaches up, trailing his hand through Michael's stomach, whispering soft apologies when discontents groan is all that Michael responds with. Michael nestles his head against Alex's chest, forehead pressed against Alex's neck, letting Alex's heartbeat lull and distract him from the way his battered body is protesting its own existence.

Alex strokes from Michael's arm, to his shoulder, resting a hand on his cheek, trying to press Michael closer against his chest. "Michael," he murmurs, pressing his lips against the softness of his washed curls, inhaling the scent of his shampoo. "It feels like a dream." Alex whispers, afraid to disturb the quiet and calm they've achieved.

Michael sighs at the feeling of Alex's lips against his skin. "You're the best husband everyone could ever ask for," Michael mumbles, the words slurred with sleep. Alex smiles fondly down at Michael's exhausted form before closing his own eyes.

"You're safe, Michael," Alex breathed. "Rest, I'll protect you."


End file.
